


Legwork

by gin200168



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: F/M, Het, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-22
Updated: 2006-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin200168/pseuds/gin200168
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curiosity, flirting and snark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legwork

Flack's long, lean fingers slide slowly up Stella's thigh, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, softened by a few beers. He leans in, looking down her shirt, lacking the stealth that he would have in a sober state.

"So, Bonasera, tell me. Ever thought about you and me?" He makes a slightly uncoordinated hand gesture, but the leer as he says the words is enough of a clue as to his intentions. As if the rest of his actions weren't.

Stella looks at him, somewhat amused at the drunken straightforwardness, and can't resist playing along a bit. She smiles coyly at him, and watches his eyes narrow in caution for a moment, and go back to soft and slightly unfocused.

"Well, what do you think?" She waits for the answer that she knows is coming.

"Heh. I say you've _definitely_ thought about it. Imagined what my fingers—" he slides them back and forth on her leg, slipping slightly under the edge of her skirt—"can do. Alllll the women do."

She raises an eyebrow at him, shifting her leg subtly so that his hand slides down and he has to try once again to edge his hand up. She gives him until about the count of five… and he makes it to three. He's determined tonight.

"All the women? What? All _three_ of them?" she says back with relish, grinning sweetly with evil licking at the edges. She wants to see exactly how far his usual blustering will take them tonight, and so far, he's playing right along.

Flack makes a wounded face, and pouts at her. "Burn, Bonasera, burn… " He says as he dramatically places a hand on his chest, while the other still slides slowly up her leg. "I'll have you know, many more than that, thank you. Like the guy that got an arrow through his chest. Books and books full. Just 'cause _your_ taste runs along the lines of workaholic tightass Marine types, not everyone else's does."

Well, well, well, someone's rather defensive tonight, she thinks. This could work to her advantage, depending on how things go. "And yours runs along the nerdy CSI with glasses type then?" she says with an evil grin.

"Oh don't even _go_ there. That was _low_, Bonasera. Low." He looks slightly panicked, like maybe there is a speck of truth to that—more like a very drunken experiment, she suspects. She files away in the back of her mind a reminder to try to wheedle _that_ story out of Danny one night when he's in one of his talkative moods. She suspects she'll get both good blackmail material on the both of them and a very entertaining story at only the cost of getting Danny drunk.

His fingers have made it under her skirt now, and she finds that she doesn't mind it too much. Although she wouldn't ever admit it out loud, she _is_ a little curious as to what those fingers could do—she doesn't recall seeing such big hands on too many other men, much less ones she wouldn't mind bedding. And she has plenty of ideas of what she'd _like_ them to do. Plus, if she's really being honest with herself, she _likes_ Don. He's good people, despite his blustering and behavior at times—he'd protect any of them in a heartbeat, despite the disdain of the other detectives for the "nerd squad".

He's loosened his tie and opened his collar long ago, and is continuing to lean closer and closer into her personal space as he talks. It'd be a bit obtrusive if she wasn't welcoming it, but she doesn't mind. He still smells faintly of whatever cologne he put on that morning, not bad, whatever it is. She leans in towards him, looking up at him through her lashes trying to crank up the heat under his collar a bit. It works—he shifts uncomfortably, trying to subtly adjust himself in the process.

He looks down at her, and his breathing starts to get a little heavier, and his eyes go a little wide. Almost like he's not quite sure _what_ to do with her, now that she's pushed the game a little farther than usual—like if he makes the wrong move, he may lose vital parts and he knows it. Letting him _think_ that is just fine, but he wouldn't serve his purpose if that was the case.

She leans into him, sliding her hand in and up towards the bulge she sees out of the corner of her eye. She nips one of the tendons of his neck and soothes it gently with her tongue, and he lets out an undignified yelp of surprise. She smiles, amused at his reaction, and pulls away slightly to see him looking down at her, fingers now clenched around her thigh and absolutely frozen in place, fear and surprise weighing equally on his face.

She keeps herself from laughing, but does let a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "What are you waiting for, a written invitation?" she throws back at him as she gets up and goes to leave. He stays still, watching her, hand having fallen to his thigh as she moved away, seemingly unsure that he's really living through what's playing out right this moment. It's like he expects her behavior to be a complete hallucination or that she'll hit him if he does anything more.

She steps back towards him, leans down a little, and kisses him very gently on the lips, licking them deliberately with the tip of her tongue. "Come on, time to eat your words. And if you're very very good, maybe even something else." She then turns and starts to leave. As she walks away, he seems to snap out of whatever had been holding him in place, throws a couple bills on the bar, and heads straight out after her as fast as he can.

 

Fin  
6/06


End file.
